


Light.

by Piqueniale



Series: Green and blue (all I do is write about you) [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Summer Camp, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Anxiety Disorder, Based IRL events, But it never becomes too graphic i think, Character Study, Childhood Friends, Coming Out, Depression, Domestic Violence, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Endgame Clarke Griffin/Lexa, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Happy Ending, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Lovers, Hallucinations, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Lexa-centric, Love Letters, POV Lexa, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Sexual Abuse, Physical Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, References to Depression, Sad with a Happy Ending, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Sexual Abuse, Slow Burn, Summer, Summer Camp, Verbal Abuse, Writer!Lexa, all is show as something bad and how it is, and no "SHE SAVED ME", artist!Clarke, but not romanticised, in the sense of unhealthy attachment, it is all just mentioned, it is really fluffy though, not at all that, nothing like "OH COOL MENTAL ILLNESSES", sorta - Freeform, this is a bit like lexa's love letter to clarke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-02
Updated: 2018-02-02
Packaged: 2019-03-02 21:36:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13326837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Piqueniale/pseuds/Piqueniale
Summary: Dear Clarke:First of all, Happy Birthday.Second, I love you.Third, here is how that came to be.:Or, Clarke turns 25, and Lexa writes her the most absurdly extensive love letter.Rated Mature for depictions of violence, rape and mental illnesses (including mentions of self-harm and ideation). It is not pretty, but not overly graphic in any way.NOW EDITED!





	Light.

**Author's Note:**

> This is really personal, somehow. I can only hope you enjoy it.  
> Bear with me during the beginning.

_ **Dear Clarke:** _

  
_First of all, Happy Birthday._  
_Second, I love you._  
_Third, here is how that came to be._

_I can only hope that helps you understand why I see you the way I do._

* * *

I remember when we first met each other. How could I ever forget? I was 16, you were 14, and it looked like all the confidence I did not have was in you: You were overflowing with it, like this beautiful rainbow that withstood floods and droughts. You were that for me. You are that for me. I can always find light in you.

I recall being ridiculed by this one guy the same night we met, in a camp abroad, in Spain, and I recall crying in my bedroom for hours. I believed every single thing he said to me, and the laughter of our peers did not help. You didn't either, you only stood there, almost as in shock as I was. You seemed sad, disappointed. At the time, I thought it was because of me, that I had somehow done something wrong already. It was heartbreaking.

That left me alone. Everything I did, I did alone. You sometimes did too, but out of your own choice and independence, while I did it out of fear and shame. I vividly remember you entering your cabin, and my head turning around like if there was some kind of mechanism pulling me towards you. I still feel that curiosity, that willingness to know more about you. However, at the time, the insecurities in me won, and I never approached you directly.

I did, however, hit you pretty hard with a stray ball while playing volleys the next day. I was so nervous when I saw how pretty you were… All I could do was laugh uncontrollably. The fact that I was the apathetic girl who fell asleep in almost every class and somehow managed to wake up to beat and refute your answers did not help my case either. No wonder you hated me. But I could never hate you. I was just scared. Intimidated. Small and insecure.

Then things changed. Raven and Anya, the girls I used to hang around sometimes, became close. Considering how shy I was, being the third wheel was not my cup of tea, pretty evidently. So I accidentally vented out that frustration to Octavia, who was a year younger than me and your best friend inside the camp. She loved the fact I did not want to follow any rules and just felt like having fun, so she introduced us formally. It should be noted she did so while you were getting out of the shower, semi-naked, and pretty pissed about being interrupted, which was more than understandable. You tried to be polite for a while before throwing us out, and that kind of led you to discover my ability with words, as I apologized by horribly singing it wasn't me, twisting the lyrics a bit. Raven and Anya still laugh about it, but I don't care much. It was the first time I got to be me, and do the stupid thing I normally would stop myself from doing. Sue me for being a softie if you want, but I always was, I just had not had the confidence or the need to show it until that moment. It was because I was awestruck by you, and I just wanted to show I was not as boring as I appeared, that I was not _nothing._ I felt like maybe I could be something to you.

The next day, Octavia took me to the “disco”, where you were waiting for her, and seemed a bit bothered when you understood I was coming with you. I just wanted to prove myself, though, no matter how nervous I was. I saw you dancing, in your cute way that everyone agrees fits you and is super adorable but nobody else would be able to pull off without looking like a fool, and I fell harder. I fell a thousand times that night, completely stunned by your presence and how beautiful you were, I could not stop smiling. I could not stop trying to show off in front of you. God, was I stupid. It embarrasses me to this day, but, at least, it worked, didn't it?

When we went out to take a walk and breathe some fresh air, I completely made a fool of myself by reciting Romeo’s line to a random window, just because you asked what I loved, and literature, and you, it was. Never in a million years would I have expected that stunt to turn into a random Italian girl coming out and reciting Juliet’s lines, and much less into them inviting us up for pizza. Gosh,  _ **I was so gay that night**_ , I felt so fucking gay just by being next to you. I rememberI actually gave you a speech about why it was not possible I liked vaginas, trying to convince myself too, just when you were starting to like me as a person. God, I was so socially awkward and inept, I was just so desperate to be straight and to also get to be with you guys, because I had not been popular at the beginning, at all (you know I was made fun of because of my appearance and attitude a whole lot), and you were just these cool girls that seemed to have a close group and I wanted that, I wanted that closeness with people that liked the same stuff I did, which you also did. And Octavia was just so… Forward. I always felt like I was better with you, despite your obvious dislike of me.

So I just kept hanging around you, knowing you still preferred Octavia and being by yourself but also acknowledging you no longer hated me that much. I kept showing off, faking confidence, I kept doing awful jokes using literature as the base, and my change was freaking radical. I suddenly became so popular that people recognized me without me ever introducing myself or having met them. They looked up to me to make decisions, to run the show, and I was happy about being accepted by everyone, but over everything, I was glad you seemed to be warming up to me.

But good things come to an end, and I was forced to go back to my less-than-ideal life. We all had agreed to talk that night through the wifi of the camp, as you would still be there and us, the other group, would be back by then. Surprisingly, and even though you did not get along incredibly well with any of us, you were the only one that showed up, so I talked to you for an hour through MSN (remember when that was a thing?) and felt better, but never thought about it afterwards, not at least until the next time we talked one on one.

I cried for weeks afterwards, being thrown back into the reality of being in a constant fight, somewhere where I never felt loved by anyone, somewhere where my life was always threatened and I had no one to laugh with. So I cried and got betrayed by the one girl I used to get along with at the time, Costia. It was stupid really, we had not known each other for that long, but I had become attached to her. I guess she did not feel the same way because the moment Nia showed up, she started avoiding me. She would come back crying one night, once she realized she was being used. She swore she had nothing to do with all the bullying I had been experimenting. I knew she was saying the truth, and I had a moment of weakness. But the moment I woke up, I also knew I could no longer rely on her, I could not allow myself to, she had shown me her true colors and, although she was not bad, she was not strong either. She was there, and she was mine at the time, she was mine for one night, but that is all we could be.

Nia found out about how her pup had behaved and, well... You already know the rest. It did not take her long to move. It took me much longer to forget her.

And, having no one, I wrote about it to you, because I just needed to talk and you laughed every time I spoke. I always found you smiling, and people from our common group usually asked me to talk about myself more, so I did, to you. And you answered. I remember you answered because you knew how I felt, somehow. You were never a follower either, and Octavia had also turned on you at that moment. I am glad she found it in herself to forgive you for what happened. I think you still haven't, but I promise to keep watching over you until you do. And if you never do... Then I will never stop. I could never stop even if I wanted to, I think. I know you will probably roll your eyes, and think something along the lines of _I am more than capable_ -when you say things like that, it makes me wonder whether I have been a bad or a good influence on you, because, on one hand, you are capable, but everyone needs help sometimes. You taught me that.

We texted for hours that night, and soon we were doing it every day. One night that I was in an especially bad place, you told me you loved me. You told me you loved me and I had not heard it in  _so fucking long_ (years maybe even?) I just broke down in tears and told you everything. Told you about how afraid I always was, and how hard it was for me to trust anyone, and why I had cried so much when we left Spain. And you might not have been able to hug me, but I felt comforted and loved anyway, and I felt freer. Because maybe my mother, the one I used to idolatre, was gone. And, instead of well-intended-yet-clumsy Bekka Pramheda, all that was left was Alie Jaha ("Thelonious likes it more, sounds more distinguished"), the mighty celebrity. Bekka might have married Jaha, but the one who made it to the next day was all Alie. The beatings started not long after. He would try to kill us, seeing in us things that were not there because of all the drugs he had pumped into his system. He would never touch me unless I got in the way, though. Unless he was about to hit my mum and the only way to do so was beating me until I could not stand first. Try to kill me? That is another story. It was quite often. Try to drug me? I was on medication for two years, unknowingly, my grades dropping like it's hot (I thought you'd appreciate that one, did you like it, Clarke? Raven told me it was a popular song when we were tweens). I think the sleeping pills, the ones I did not even know I had been taking, much less for so long, were the worst part. _Stilnox._ I was addicted and definitely not functional. I could not be awake during the day, and the moment I tried to close my eyes at night, I would hear her screams and his shouts. But when I got up, there was nothing there. I shouted a couple of times, desperate, thinking I was losing my mind. I was right, though, I was having auditory hallucinations. I started sleeping with earplugs, and you suggested hard rock blasting high, just so if I heard any faint shouts, I would know they were in my head, or I could attribute them to the music. It made it easier to ignore. I started sleeping again, although the pills I was still taking, without my knowledge, gave me incredibly vivid nightmares and night terrors. 

Maybe all of that was going wrong. Maybe my mother sported more than a couple of bruises, and maybe I was not faring much better. Maybe my dad could not care less about anything that was going on and only kept getting increasingly angrier every time he called, demanding my attention, threatening with going to court, as I did not always fulfil the order of visiting him every other weekend. Maybe I was getting bullied at school and my chances of ever going to college were slim to none. But you were there. You were there and it made all the difference.  **You were the first person I had ever told, you were the one who taught me how to love myself, how to love others. You were the one who told me it was okay if I was not straight, that you weren't either, and no one should tell me I had to be. Not anymore. You told me it was okay if I did not love my family, you taught me I was not a horrible person. I will forever be grateful to you for that.** How could I not? There was so much I hated about myself, and you made it all look like things to love. You really did love me, somehow, and **I had never experienced a relationship so selfless and pure with anyone.** I still haven't, not in this way, not with anyone else.

I remember meeting you again for the first time, two years later, in March. I was turning 18 that very same day, and I had decided to go to your city, to surprise you. Seeing you was all the birthday present I wanted. It did not turn out as expected. It was bittersweet. I spent the train crying, and no one approached me. To be able to sneak out, I had been saving every cent I could for almost a year, and, when Jaha tried to beat my mother into submission the previous day, I threw myself at him, waiting to the usual beat-up followed by my own mother kicking me out because "I was making him mad, it was my fault he kept beating us, how could I not see he was okay when he was alone with her? If I was just a bit nicer, that would not happen." That was not what I got, no. Instead, he ordered her to beat me up. Because if I would not learn with his "teachings", maybe it was time my own mother "schooled" me. And to make him happy, she did.

When I finally got there and called you, warning you I was in front of your home, you cried. And I thought that meant I had done something right. Finally. When you opened the door, crying. I almost kissed you. It was all I could think about, even more when you pressed yourself against me, and sobbed on my neck, your breath warm on my skin. And then you opened your mouth.

"My father is dead." You said.

And I could do nothing but hug you harder, hug you until you knew he might be, but I wasn't just yet. I was there. And you were there. It could only get better. You and me together? We could take the world.

I stayed with you that night, and the following day as your mother went to the funeral. I did not know at the time, but he had not told you. He had not told you how sick he was because your mother told him not to. She thought you would be happier if you didn't know.

That evening, as your mother mourned in her own room, and we hugged in bed, Octavia came by. I immediately knew she wanted to apologize. So I kissed each stream of tears running down your face, and was about to leave, when you pulled me back in for one last hug. **I was doomed from the start.**

The next time Jaha raised his hand, I raised my knife and kicked his sorry ass out. All of his belongings flew out the window, my mum crying and hitting me, trying to stop me,  while I also cried, but I was not sure why. You should have seen his face when his fucking TV crushed his car's windshield. Priceless.

You do always say it was all my doing, but. But. I would have never done, had I not seen your face upon losing Jake. I remembered that and I knew I did not want to be the one to find my mum's dead body somewhere in my own house. So I decided not to, thanks to you. You might not realize this, but  **you are the best thing that ever happened to me.**

* * *

And then we had that second summer when I met Bellamy (Bell, who also hated me at first because I spent way too much time with you and he was jealous, but then did not because I was cool enough, but then did again because he thought I could not care about anyone as long as you were there -which was true,- and then stopped hating me for real) and I just loved you so much, I knew you were there to stay too. That summer, among people who believed I was awesome for the first time in my life, I finally made the first move. You were on me, all blonde curls and bright blue eyes, playful and impatient. The waves crashed against the shore, our friends played around us and I felt at peace. I did not know whether my chest or the sun had more light.

"If you don't stop moving, I cannot braid your hair," I told you.

"I am going to go into the water into a few, anyway." You turned back to me, smiling.

"The flag is yellow. It does not seem very safe."

"Octavia is already in."

"Octavia sometimes lacks a sense of self-preservation."

"Bellamy is in too."

I remember rolling my eyes. "Bellamy would jump into an active volcano, just as long as that way he would have a chance to protect his sister."

"Raven is about to get in. So is Anya. Besides, Lincoln is in already too, and he is a local. He probably knows what he is doing."

"Raven wants to get into Anya's pants, and vice-versa. They cannot do that in front of everyone, so they are probably using the water to their advantage. Lincoln's excuse is probably the same, except he seems to want Octavia, and I do not think she would oppose."

"Come on, let's go get in the water!" You kept insisting.

"No, thanks. It is not that I don't want to, it is just that I have this weird survival instinct going on?"

"So, that's your goal. Survival. Not having fun with your friends, or with me. Just plain old surviving. Don't we deserve better than that?" You looked at me with those big puppy eyes. I knew I had lost.

"Maybe we do." And God, your mouth. I am pretty sure you know what it does to me, and you are probably smiling in that really smug way that I hate and I love. But it was your mouth. It was your grateful smile. It was all of you. I just had to. So I did.

And when you started kissing me back, I was pretty sure it all ought to have been a dream. One I did not want to wake up from.

"Lex."

"Mhm?"

"I can't." That made me open my eyes again, and I think you saw how heartbroken I suddenly felt. "Not yet."

And I understood that I had been right. It was a small dream made a reality. You were right. What we were living at that moment... It was not how our daily lives were. And that was something we could not fix.

"Maybe someday. Maybe someday you and I will owe nothing to anyone, and we will be able to do all we want, and more. But we just lost my father, and I cannot be with you as I would like to. You have your own issues as well and... I just don't think doing this is a good idea."

"I know." It still hurt.

"We need to do the right thing. We need to be responsible." You squeezed my hand, and I knew it was not an apology, but rather a promise.

"I know, that's why I-" I swallowed. "That is why you are you."

You rested your forehead against mine. "I really want to kiss you." You sighed, and your breath tickled my lips. "But I think I'd rather go into the water."

It was my turn to sigh. "I hate you."

"I hate me too, right now."

* * *

We pretended it never happened for so much time, I actually started doubting it had. I knew I was not too sound mentally, I still heard things. It would not have been that weird.

I stayed with my mum and worked my ass off, going back to my junior year, in an attempt to raise my GPA. It worked, somewhat.

My grades were going up, but I felt like I no longer had a purpose. The pressure of performing in school? Not even close to how fighting for your life 24/7 felt like. I guess something in me just snapped. I started cutting again.

I attempted to end my life several times: without my stepdad there, I still felt in danger, alone and useless. This time I did not have a job to do, as my mum did not need me to stop someone from hitting and killing her anymore. I had no purpose, no ambition, no pressure, no nothing. But I still felt in danger. Like at any point he could walk in. Like my mother was lying to me and she still saw him (you and I both know it would not have been the first time). And when I closed my eyes, I could hear him even when awake. I saw him in my dreams.

My mum still hit me, thinking that would somehow bring him back to us. It was like he had never left. Like all I had done was for nothing, because that feeling would not stop, no matter what I did. Cutting helped, fucking random people was also a good distraction, as fucked up as it was, but it was only a coping method. I wanted to end it. I wanted really badly to end it. I thought you would no longer have to deal with me, and maybe you could finally say yes to the guy in your class who had been mooning over you forever, Fish or Flick or something like that. And my mum would not miss me, how could she miss me if she did not love me? She still hit me, and you do not hit people you say you love. You do not blame them for everything that happened. You do not throw them out when you can no longer stand them, and hope they find a place to sleep somewhere. You do not. But she did. She kept doing it, even if he was gone. Maybe because he wasn't. Not really.

And now I understand she was having a bad time, as well. That she looked at me and saw me fighting him, and it made her feel both guilty and scared. She was scared of me because she thought the same way I had put a knife to Jaha's neck, and kicked him out, she could be next. She saw me as a monster. So she destroyed the monster before it could destroy her. I cannot blame her, but that does not mean it doesn't hurt sometimes, no matter how much time has passed. I never had her during my childhood, nor my adolescence. I hurt for all the things I missed as a teenager, I mourn it. I also mourn for my childhood self, who learnt to cook standing in a chair because someone had to feed me, and it wasn't going to be the mother who was always working. I know my childhood was her trying to give me a better life, which she did, and she was not responsible for how she saw me during my teenage years, for how she had been brainwashed into hating every single trait of that monster she had bred. She was not responsible for it. It was not her fault. It still hurt, that I would risk my life for her, and she only saw me as an aggressive being that stood between her and her eternal happiness with the love of her life, with Jaha, because he was only a victim as her. I was the one forcing his hand. Or so she believed. After all, he had held the knives many times, he had poured gasoline that we would later be responsible for cleaning, and he had sped against walls with us in the car. But he always stopped. He always asked for forgiveness. He was an adult. I was the child who held the knife against a grown man's throat twice my size and felt no remorse about it. At least, I did not, at first, and I did not, at the end.

One time. when I had been beaten up severely for a couple of days in a row, I could not take it anymore. I was so mad. So angry. She dragged me by my hair and threw me against the wall. I grabbed her hand and pushed her away from me, using my strength for once, knowing full-well how I was taller and younger. She fell backward, but kept shouting at me, kept screaming at the top of her lungs as she got up. How this was my fault. How I had forced her to do it with my behaviour. I raised my hand again.

And that was it. The moment I saw how scared she looked, how she was covering herself even through her shouts, how her eyes were wet and she was ready to be struck again. For it all to keep going. I could not do it. So I lowered my hand, crying, and locked myself up, incredibly ashamed. I hyperventilated, all I could think about was how fucked up everything was, and how everything in me had turned out to be wrong. I made myself bleed until it stopped hurting as much, several hours and two dozen cuts later. I was the monster. and I could see it too.

I told you about it. I told you everything. You sat down with me while I was in that hole. You listened and called and made me remember I was loved and that there was light, even if I could not see it. I begged you to give up, I always begged you to give up on me because I was so tired of fighting, but I could not stop doing it as long as you were there, as long as you had hope for me and my departure would harm you as much as you said it would. I could not do that to you. I could not keep hurting people.

Eventually, as my attempts became more… Lethal, you and Anya were forced to work something out together. You decided to tell my parents.

That night, the night you did, I was beaten up like I had never been before. My mother kept crying, shouting at me, "I brought you into this world, I ruined my life for you! Jaha is gone because of you! And now you want to leave? If anyone is going to take you to the other side, it is me!". Every form of communication was taken away from me. My phone, my laptop. I was left to rot in my bed for two days. I used the time to try to heal myself as I could. Every time I woke up, there was some of my favorite juice and food on my desk. On the third day, she was there too, crying and hugging me. She changed my bandages and got me an appointment with a psychiatrist. I hugged her back. It was the first time I had seen my mother in a decade. It was the first time it felt like I still had a mother.

I was diagnosed with major depression and anxiety. And you were with me through all the process. We talked and you calmed me down when, in my first and only visit, the assigned psychologist told me  _“if I could not fulfil my obligations, then I did not deserve my rights, like the right to a home, and my mother should kick me out. That way, I would be thrown out into the streets, where I would live until I died from an overdose or an alcoholic coma, or one of my clients killed me if I gave up to prostitution to be able to afford food.”_   God, I believed her. When things get dark I still hear her telling me no one should take care of me because I am a worthless unproductive member of society. I still cry just by thinking about that day. But you managed to convince me it was not real, you managed to keep me fighting. And **I am so grateful. So very fucking grateful to you.**

You came two days after that, travelling from the other side of the country, that in which you lived, trying to see if you could find out what had happened. Trying to be there, as all I had told you since I had gotten my phone back was what the psychologist told me. I pretended we were not home and avoided your calls. I did not feel ready to face you. I hope you can understand that, and forgive me for it. I truly am sorry, but I do not think I could have done anything else.

* * *

A year later, I was a 21-year-old senior, about to graduate high school, again, this time with much better marks, a ticket for an Ivy League college, majoring in English if everything went well, and my mother was back. Not completely, not even close, but... I could see Bekka Pramheda again, every time Alie left her enough room to breathe. A beaten Bekka, one that had changed her name and her entire self for a man, even going as far as hurting her own child because of him. One that was suddenly realizing all the awful things she had done, and still needed to learn how to deal with that. A post-brainwash Bekka, but my mother again, nonetheless. Someone that, maybe, in time, I could trust again.

But Titus, my father, was not in my life anymore. He had at some point stopped trying. And all Anya did was moon over Raven. And you... You were kissing Flynn, or whatever his name was, happily in college with him.

I felt lonely, still. I wanted to kiss someone too.

Just kiss, nothing else, I promise.

Nia did not get that memo.

I am aware of how stupid I was, throwing a party at my own house. Getting so drunk I could barely walk. Flirting with Nia, of all people.

But that does not excuse how she tricked me into going somewhere quieter, or how she took my shirt off. How she pushed past my panties, even as I told her no. It does not excuse how she entered me a second time, even as I had already pushed her away after the first. It does not excuse how she took my lack of response, my surrender, as a yes. It does not excuse how she forced what came after. Nothing could ever excuse it. And I know you know it, because I drunkenly called you just after it happened, crying. But I didn't. And it took me months to realize that that awful thing that people make careless jokes about, that which happens to "whores" and "sluts", but never to anyone we know. That which we call rape. Well, maybe it had happened to me too. Maybe Nia had done that to me, despite the fact we had known each other since we were six. I knew she was awful, but I also thought she was gorgeous, ice queen HBIC of the school. It never occurred to me that she could be the monster under the bed to such magnitudes.

Two months later, I moved to your city, ready to start my major, and you broke up with your shiny floppy-haired boyfriend, who had been sleeping with your roommate for a month. I guess I should have felt relief, or happiness, in a selfish way. I just felt sad for you, upset about anyone treating you like that.

This time it was me who was not ready. **I am glad you never pushed me to be.**

* * *

We lived close by, for once, after over five years of knowing each other. But we were never there.

It is weird, you know? That moment when you go from being a long-distance friend to a short-distance one. Were we supposed to meet every day? Shouldn't we talk as much as we used to or more? But isn't it stupid to text you when I can walk to your door?

So we were never there. Only for the important moments. Only when you turned 20, and then I turned 22. You went to live with your friends, whom you had met in _your_ class, in _your_ major, in _your_ college. I went to live alone and, one day, after classes, a stray dog followed me back home. He was a puppy, probably four or five months old, big enough that people would not want him anymore, young enough for me to develop a maternal instinct the moment I saw him. Plus, he looked like a lion, with his big paws, yellowish/light-cinnamon coat and ruffled hair around his neck.

He reminded me of you. I had to take him in. I thought about naming him Clark, but I thought it was too obvious, so that is how Kal-El came to be. It felt like he had fallen from the sky as a blessing, as once Superman did, but not to save the world this time, but to save me. To give me a friend, someone to love. Kal-El really is my own superhero.

I told you about him a bit later, and you swang by with some dog treats.

We watched a movie holding hands, your thigh against mine, and your thumb drawing circles on me. I almost fainted, and I think I saw you smirk when you realized I was not breathing exactly like I was supposed to.

We did not talk about it.

* * *

You turned 21.

I came across Costia in New Year's.

I kissed Costia.

It occurred to me that I didn't know who you might have been kissing that year, or the previous one, for that matter. I didn't even know if you were dating anyone.

When had we grown so much, we kind of just grew apart?

She kissed me back.

I pushed your memory away.

I deepened the kiss.

"Your place or mine?" Does it even matter which one of us asked?

* * *

I turned 23. You did not come to my birthday celebration. I did not invite you either. I still hoped you would somehow find out about it and come. It was dumb, I know.

Octavia invited us both, though, and we both went to hers.

It rained that night and you took me home.

"Don't be stupid, Lex, it is fucking freezing out there and your hoddie is soaked." Your smile. God, your smile.

Just like that, you had me in your hands again.

I had never felt as much as when you kissed me against my apartment's door. Never.

I felt a whole new level of guilt the moment I saw my girlfriend smile at me after I came in.

It did not feel like sun in my chest, it did not feel warmness spreading through me. It did not feel happy, nor light.

I did not feel for her as I should have.

I broke up with her the following day.

You turned 22. You invited me, and I went.

We kissed in New Year's.

I swore we would eventually talk, this time.

* * *

I turned 24.

Octavia gave me two plane tickets to Spain.

"We all put together some money." She explained. "Don't waste this."

"I can take care of Kal while you are away." Bellamy offered. "And I agree, don't waste this."

Anya and Raven's present was less child-friendly, although the same advice was offered.

"Don't waste this."

I did not. I invited you to go with me during spring break.

It is kind of funny how we met in the middle. How it took me two extra years to finish high school, and it took you one more than usual to finish college.

So we found ourselves in Spain, a couple of months of college left. The same beach we had first kissed at, all those years ago. Five, to be precise. Seven since we met.

"I would say we have taken things slow." You laughed.

"That is certainly one way to put it."

"Are you ready?"

"Are you going to pull away after I kiss you?" I asked.

You shook your head no.

"Are we going to pretend this never happened and go back three steps at once?" It was your turn.

"No." I never wanted for any of that to happen. But now I am glad it did. I don't know how things would have been different, and I don't want to. I am happy with you.

"Do you still trust me?" There was a hint of hesitance in your voice. I understand now that the years had not just passed without a hitch for you either. You saw me, you knew me. You understood I had my doubts about everything, after that time we had spent as barely more than acquaitances, with neither of us making a move. You understood I had thought of us, friendship and everything else included, as some far away dream that was coming to an end. You knew I was a bit on edge, as much as I had tried to keep myself calmed because I saw us pulling away as you leaving me.

But the thing is I hadn't even thought of that. But you had. You had thought of me more than even I had thought of myself. And that meant everything, that meant most of my doubts, of my insecurities, they meant nothing. You had learnt me, and you knew how to make my mental illnesses and my special needs seem like something normal, something you could deal with easily. You had perfectly silenced all the voices inside of me, all the forces pulling me in different directions, with just five words.

"With my life." Said the only voice left.

You shined.

If I thought I had felt it all when you kissed me the previous year, I was proven wrong on that beach.

And again all over our hotel room. I thought I was dying each time you pulled away to level your breath. I had waited for so long for this, all I could think about was you. You, you, and only you. I did not need anything else.

You, you, you. Mine in the same way I had always been yours.

When we came back home, no one commented on our respective hickeys or our interlaced hands. All we got was everybody's silent approval. And Raven's cake of "Congrats on the Sex." (I still cannot believe Anya and Bellamy did not know about it. Or anyone else for the matter. Come on, Raven hardly ever shuts up, she had to tell _someone_. Anyone.)

* * *

The day we both graduated was one of the happiest of my life.

I shouted at the top of my lungs when your name came up.

You got down quickly, not even bothering to wait for the pictures, and grabbed my hand. We both ran between laughs, barely arriving in time for my name to be called at my own graduation.

I was about to get on stage when you pulled me back in front of everyone.

"Let's give them a show." You winked, before crashing your lips against mine in the most spectacular fashion. Your tongue made its way into my mouth and, just when I felt my knees going weak, you pulled away. "You have a diploma to pick up."

"Uh, yeah, sure, right, the diploma."

I do not even know what happened next, or how I managed to make it to the top of the stair. but there is a photo with my huge dumb grin speaking for itself. I cannot say I dislike the horrified looks my classmates were giving me, either, considering they had treated me like little more than a nuisance. It is a great photo.

**I just love how you make me smile and laugh, no matter what. How you turn me into this carefree improved version of myself. I love who I am next to you. Someone worthy.**

* * *

I turned 25 and you got yourself a job.

You turned 24 and loved me, even if I was jobless and only wrote and wrote until my hands hurt.

I turned 26 and my book, with your illustrations, made it to the top of the New York Time's bestseller list.

You are turning 25. You are turning 25 and **I love you with all I am and all I have.**

* * *

_“What’s a soulmate? It is like a best friend but more. It is the one person in the world who knows you better than anyone else. That someone who makes you a better person. No, actually, they do not make you a better person. You do that by yourself because they inspire you. A soulmate is someone you carry with you forever. It is one person who knew you, accepted you and believed in you before anyone else did or when no one else would. And no matter what happens, you will always love them and nothing could ever change that.”_ That is what you quoted when you said you believed I was your soulmate, and I cannot help but agree because I feel that way about you. I always have.  **I will always carry you. I will always love you, nothing could ever change that. Always, however, whenever, whatever you need. I am here. And I will love you.**

**I want to shout it. I want everyone to know. I want no one to be able to say the opposite.**

**Let me prove it to you. I want this.**

**You are my agapē, love. I have known it since I met you ten years ago. Happy birthday.**

**Now, close this letter and look at me.**

* * *

  _ **(CLARKE'S POV):**_

Your eyes are wet when you lower the letter and see Lexa kneeling in front of you, dirty jeans and a look so much alike to that of the first time you met, but so different too, because now she isn't staring at the floor, unable to hold her head high. She is looking up, and she is staring at you like you are the only thing that matters.

A sob escapes your throat before you can do anything to contain it, and her green eyes seem entirely too otherworldly. Hopeful, magical. Words could not describe everything you are seeing and feeling.

"Marry me?"

You can only nod and try to hug her with all your strength.

You end up tackling her to the ground, your eyes so wet you can't see.

She isn't faring much better.

But, between her arms, all you can feel is light.

**Author's Note:**

> That was it. Now that it is over I guess it is time to say this is almost identical to how I fell in love for the first time, with someone who is still my best friend to this day. Had to make it more the hundred-y, but it is basically the exact same thing.  
> I cannot stress enough how hard it was for me to write it. But I think I needed to. And I think making it a fanfiction, an actual good thing instead of something creepy that would rot away in a drawer. I think it was the best way to do it, honestly. Maybe I am wrong, but.  
> EDIT: I might add a chapter in a few months, if things go well.  
> Find me at rocking-my-socks.tumblr.com, or commenting over here.


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